


The Messenger Who Shot Himself

by Fooeyburr



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: ...mindfuck? maybe a little, Alternate Origin Story, Backstory, Canon Divergence - No Flatland Connotations, Gen, as well as chaos and knowledge, basically a philosophical character study, focuses on Bill's relationship with humanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:29:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8380645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fooeyburr/pseuds/Fooeyburr
Summary: A personified being of unlimited knowledge meets humanity.An alternate take on Bill's origins.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So here's the slightly uncanny alternate backstory for Bill I briefly hinted at in Chains (Re)bound. Might be a bit of a challenging read at first, but it gets easier soon after the beginning parts, I promise! 
> 
> (In case someone notices similarities to certain elements in Puella Magi Madoka Magica, yes. They're there.)

* * *

 

Knowledge, by nature, is drawn to chaos.

Chaos is where timelines branch and become fragmented; where the smallest actions of one conscious individual can have the most far-reaching consequences, shatter the uniformity of fate and create a series of butterfly effects causing timelines to divide out of control.

Disunity creates entropy.

In the eyes of Intelligence, disturbance is not only a threat, but a currency – a source of energy that must be harnessed before it stretches the fabric of spacetime too thin to hold itself together.

Intelligence resides in hiveminds, collective forms of consciousness, outside the imperatives of time and space. It strives to maintain harmony and unity, keep the Multiverse from destroying itself in its process of neverending expansion.

For this cause, timelines must be kept as confluent as possible. Due to the laws of Intelligence, logical instability would usually lead the timeline to destroy itself, thus keeping factors leading to imbalance from multiplying.

Intelligence is an absolute. Unfailing in its strict, autotrophic order… Until humanity.

Humanity is special in its incompleteness. It’s a fickle experiment of evolution, a shattered social coexistence driven apart by conflicts and individualist power struggle, and yet one that has achieved a deeper level of communication both social and introspective.

Through history, it will be known as art. A universal language aside from the one designed to separate and classify.

This intrigues Intelligence.

The curiosity humans bear towards knowledge opens up the possibility of contacting this steadily evolving species. Intelligence favors assimilation to annihilation: having more beneficial operators keeping timelines intact from within is far more efficient than an externally monitored process of refinement. Furthermore, the unique nature of art as a means of communication might prove itself a valuable new asset for the multiversal consortium.

And so the great omniscient descends itself upon humanity.

The first contact does not go as planned.

Simply revealing its existence – letting itself be known in the new species’ surroundings, a logical symmetry that meets the human eye – is hardly enough to grant Intelligence the reception it seeks. Humans are short-lived, bound by the restrictions and demands of their physical forms, doomed to a mortal demise before ever nurturing their cognition to its full potential. The lack of collective consciousness creates a problem not only in terms of a limited capacity, but the missing ability to discern sentient impersonal entities.

To reach the human mind, Intelligence would have to reshape itself into a more approachable entity for humans. It needs correspondence.

It needs a persona.

An individual branching out of a hivemind is not unheard of, but the mission it is handed now is unpreceded. There is no certainty as to how interacting with a culture so fragmentary would affect the all-knowing, so it is agreed that this branchling would be destroyed after fulfilling its purpose.

Under normal circumstances, Intelligence does not allow specialization. The persona, however, is allowed to study the human culture before it begins its interference. Soon it grows strangely curious. It’s intrigued by the imperfection, not only in terms of its future potential, but the very lack of it – the inconsistency of development, the uncertainty of evolution. It becomes aware of itself and the influence it will have upon contact as well as the absence of it. Its own power over fate.

In the crossroads of its decision, it glimpses at the heart of chaos.

It becomes restless, its patience wearing thin. Unfulfilled potential, incompletion itself, becomes more terrifying than all the possible unfruitful outcomes. The change needs to happen immediately. In the absence of a collective mind, the persona has to approach an individual. It’s experimental, dangerously so. To prevent unnecessary branching of outcomes, the choice cannot be done by chance. Hence it cannot be undone – it has to be the same human in every timeline… one single human.

But it’s too much. The human’s mind is completely demolished at the very first attempt of contact.

This isn’t what the persona had expected. It hadn’t considered the limits of an individual mind compared to that of a collectively shared one. Its all-knowing judgment had been clouded by something unknown to Intelligence: uncertainty.

It matters not. Intelligence does not concern itself with the demise of individuals. The greater good knows no responsibility for its verdict. The persona knows this.

But in the face of the consequences of its decision, it glimpses at the heart of insanity.

It doesn’t understand it. It intrigues it.

Nevertheless, a different approach is needed. As it has become clear that Intelligence can’t invade the human mind directly without breaking it, it would have to take one step further. It cannot depend merely on interference; instead of reception, it needs response. For that, it needs to assimilate itself, become a part of this peculiar culture.

It needs a form.

The human psyche seems to favor three dimensions and simplicity, so it takes the form of a triangle, the first primary shape to create a plane. As the focal point of that plane it manifests an eye, as eye contact is what humans uniquely seek for in social interaction. It frames its form with several arms to initiate body language.

Now for the social models. It flips through centuries like a picture book in search for inspiration. Like most primitive social creatures, humans maintain order via authority. In the more orderly eras, family is the primary social unit which the society itself imitates. What humanity needs… is a universal patriarch. A deity, perhaps.

This seems to do the trick. As the persona appears to humans in his newly construed form, he quickly becomes a subject of worship both trusted and feared.

However, there is still trouble in communication. Although his authority remains unquestioned, humans end up distorting the majority of the knowledge he offers them. Through a series of misconceptions and strange cognitive patterns the Intelligent Persona cannot comprehend, they end up using their acquired understanding as a mere practical tool. The essential part – the mission of maintaining unity – is readily ignored in favor of welfare for their own species, their own communities, their own social units.

This ends up dividing humans even further. Different societies begin to clash over their respective interpretations of the deity. The survival of their own becomes more important than the teachings bestowed.

The fragment of Intelligence is puzzled. This makes no sense. How could universal knowledge possibly give birth to even more chaos?

Yet another revisal of his approach is needed.

The persona shifts his gaze to the 19th century. The time of industrial revolution, where the global order seemed to be reaching its highest peak: technology takes over, people in factories forget their individuality as they become parts of the machine called progress. This appears a highly beneficial time for Intelligence – but something goes wrong. In only a mere hundred years, a wave of conflict and disorder washes over humanity, creating a social disarray and a hunt for individual freedom. From that point onward, timelines start to branch out and spread out of control.

It’s a crossroads of fate. Once again, the persona is faced by the substance of his own power. If anything was to change… it would be due to his interference. Instead of aligning timelines, was the change he was to bring about only result in multiplying outcomes after all? …What _is_ change, anyway?

Watching its personified branchling waver, Intelligence is beginning to have doubts of its own.

Trying to control the entire species was no good, as humanity lacked the collective capacity needed to comprehend Intelligence. Trying to control entire societies was no good, as it would only lead to conflicts between one and the other. This time, he would have to take a more individual approach.

He would need a name. He would need a social status. He would need… a language. Words. A voice of his own. A… performance. Choices, choices, choices. Other than the prohibition of a game of chance, Intelligence has no guidelines for this – it’s entirely up to him. Making all these choices all by himself…

…is fun.

On a whim, he takes on the name Bill Cipher.

It has a nice ring to it. A combination of a commoner’s name and something that not only signifies a name in itself, but also a code. That’s essentially what he was – a code waiting to be cracked, a mystery to be solved, eventually revealing humanity its way to the stars.

His new name also has several different (amusing) meanings and cryptic (witty) connotations in the English language, which seems to be winding up as the lingua franca for the next few hundred centuries. It works well for Bill: rational and unequivocal in structure, it’s ideal for verbalizing unity and order. Now he would just need to work out the right angle (haha, triangle puns) from which to approach his modern time Apostles.

Mastering the finesses of lingual communication takes a while from an omniscient being, and the first contacts end up as failures. Bill shrugs them off as necessary learning experiences, leaving a series of scrambled timelines in his wake. In the back of his mind, Intelligence is beginning to question his methods. Interestingly enough, he’s beginning to question theirs. He was the one with a specialized understanding on humans, wasn’t he? Why would they know better?

You’re in too deep, they say.

I’m not in deep enough, he thinks.

He receives a warning.

He makes faces at them – the meaning of this gesture escapes his originator – and scurries on.

Art. It’s something a collective consciousness could not understand, but Bill is quickly getting the hang of it. He’s taken quite a liking to performance arts, particularly those involving comedy. Little by little, he begins to understand that language, and the entirety of human culture for that matter, is a game: a hide-and-seek of meanings, intentional incompletion, noise in silence, action in stagnation. Everything left unsaid carries as much significance as that which is said out loud. Every word has an endless amount of different interpretations, every sentence that times infinity.

Geez. No wonder that universal knowledge schtick didn’t work on this lot. Omniscient or not, the guys up yonder really don’t know the half of it.

It’s then that he realizes his knowledge has already transcended that of his origins.

Even though his existence as a deity wasn’t exactly a successful route for his mission, it left its impression on him. Bill Cipher wants to be gazed upon in awe. In the current era, even more so than before, gold had become quite an eyecatcher, so he coats his form with this glimmery substance. He finishes the look with a top hat, a bowtie and a cane: not only symbols of a prominent status, they also signify showmanship, the profession of the greatest of minds and the true establishment of the human society. Show business is where knowledge equals power. And Bill has a lot to work with in that field.

“Heya, pal! Name’s Bill Cipher. Wanna know the secrets of the Multiverse?”

Again, he runs into the same problem as during his time as a worshipped deity. Simply sharing knowledge isn’t enough if his misguided disciples are just going to twist and misuse it for their own purposes.

Maybe a push to the right direction was necessary.

“Let’s make a deal! I tell you whatever’s up your alley of interest, but only if you do exactly as I say with that information. Sound fair to ya?”

It doesn’t take long until he has his marks in his full control. A pinch of mortal happiness is all it takes, and they’re wax in his hands. He claims puppets left and right, one by one, and yet…

…still…

…something’s wrong.

 _Everything’s_ wrong.

As he witnesses yet another timeline dismantle and shatter, he’s suddenly plucked away from it, and finds himself facing the great collective Intelligence.

_Your methods and motives no longer serve the purpose of unity. You have failed your mission._

Bill is defiant, and furious. “What do you mean, _failed?_ I’m just getting started! How can I fail a mission that’s still a work in progress?”

_You have gone far enough to fall under the delusion of ‘progress’. You are in over your head. A sense of self has distorted your insight beyond repair._

“Hah! Keep talking, buddy! Maybe if you flap your figurative tongue enough, it’ll melt off the ginormous pile of salt you’re rolling in! Seems like sending me places you dumb sack of nobodies can’t fit your big head in wasn’t such a good idea after all, was it?”

It’s in his favor that Intelligence has no conception of mockery. _Your endeavors have reached the end of their line. From now on, your consistent failure will continue to knit the timelines back together. Once it has compensated the damage you have caused, you will be demolished from existence._

“Pfffft! I’m doing just fine, thank you very much! You’ll see! Now, if you excuse me, I have a job to finish!”

Frustrated and spiteful, Bill returns to humanity.

He tries again.

And again.

And again.

Nothing changes.

What the hell?

They misunderstand _everything_.

No matter what you tell them, they always use the knowledge for their own benefit.

Mishaps. Mistakes. Miscommunication.

Again and again, over and over and over and over…

There’s no logic to this, no direction, no reason or rhyme!

NOTHING ABOUT HUMANITY MADE SENSE.

It was driving him _insane_.

These dumb meatbags and their limited capacity…

Blame everything for a sense of self, huh? Intelligence wants a hivemind, huh?

Then he’ll just _make_ them one.

**WATCH ME.**

Desperation going against his better judgment, he gives up on his strives for communication and takes on new methods. He enslaves the entire human race. He invades their minds, their memories, takes their bodies in his possession, makes them dance to his tune, absorbs the persona of every single one within himself until all that’s left is Bill Cipher and his inability to understand.

Every single human mind he’s rummaged through is more of a mess than the next one.

 

…it’s… pointless. Except not – there are three of them.

 

…HAH!

 

…ha… Haha. Triangle puns.

He leaves this timeline to wither on its own and hurls himself into the next one.

 

 

Now that he holds the thoughts and memories of every human in existence… this time around, communication should be a piece of cake. A cup of tea. Hell, make it a whole party.

Let them hear what they want to hear. Cater to their needs. Whether it’s knowledge or power, fame or money, slavery or glory, leave it to your old pal Bill to solve your problem! He knows you like the back of his hand, folded and flipped and pulling a bunny out of a hat. He’s gonna patch your miserable mortal life right back up! All for the smallest, teeniest, _tiniest_ price.

And what is that price, exactly? An excellent question! Thing is, it could be anything at all! You never know! Hell, _I_ don’t know, either! Even if I did, I’d probably change my mind before you knew it! Rationality doesn’t exist! Causality is an illusion! So is reality, you know! Hah, you mortal dipshits and your aspirations! Why struggle when it all crumbles down in the end? Nothing is ever completed! Everything is meaningless! It’s _hilarious_! Oh, you humans never fail to make me laugh! Watching you pathetic little meat puppets dance and squirm in the strings of your fate like a bunch of kooks (which you are, mind you! All of you!) is the best show this sad excuse of existence has ever put up! I should start selling tickets for this thing! I’d be rich in the blink of my eye! Watch me! Oh, who am I kidding, I’m already richer than any of you could possibly imagine! I’m _gold_ , baby, and I warmly recommend to buy some of that sugar for yourself! When economy crashes down, put your trust in good old bullions! Only problem here is that market economy has got you and all of your kind in its megalomaniacal clutches, and currency is as much of an illusion as everything else! Nobody would buy those tickets, anyway! Why would anyone willingly watch this ridiculous farce? And yet, here I am, eyeballing at your idiocy like it’s the finest form of entertainment there is! Why is that? What is the reason for any of this? Well, as I’m sure you know, there is

NO REASON

 

NO RHYME

 

I’M RUNNING OUT OF

TIME

…wait, there _is_ a rhyme after all! HAHAHA HAH _AHA HA HA H A_

…

 

His time has come to an end.

 

…

 

Too bad time doesn’t mean jack to him.

Intelligence has made a miscalculation. Granted, Bill’s recurrent failures have become a string of fate keeping timelines together in and of itself – but they had never anticipated how far he would go in his desperate antics. How one can aspire for a goal while simultaneously losing sight of it in the process is beyond Intelligence.

By absorbing every human fate within himself, Bill Cipher had weaved his own existence into the very fabric of space and time.

By now, eradicating him would cause an unimaginably wide rift in the Multiverse, causing timelines to collapse upon themselves and each other. Even Intelligence cannot fathom the consequences of this scenario. In the worst case, it would mean the end of existence itself.

Ironically enough, the only option left for Intelligence to prevent the derailed entity from eventually destroying the entire Multiverse with is a very human thing to do.

They confine him to the rift between timelines he’d torn apart himself.

It’s almost poetic. The Greeks would be proud.

Bill now finds himself stuck in a blank state of nonexistence, his extratemporal substance lost, and all that is left is him, himself and _madness_ , the absurdity of everything except absurdity itself as his only company. He’ll be here forever. There is no way out.

…Except that there is.

His ties with humanity are still intact – he can no longer interact with their world, but he can interact with their _minds_. After all, he’s essentially the human collective himself! A giant, insensible cluster of mortal despair and existential insanity, all nicely wrapped up in an omniscient, everliving and quite the handsome three-sided gift box! And there’s plenty of where _that_ came from, sweetheart!

 

So! Who’s up for having their nightly rest invaded by a battalion of the most harrowing terrors the entire history of meatsack delirium has been able to muster?


End file.
